


Turned Tables

by IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels



Series: A Gentle Release [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubcon Cuddling, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Jealous Sam Winchester, Masochism, Platonic Cuddling, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sadism, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels/pseuds/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels
Summary: Sam goes too far in a scene and experiences Topdrop/domdrop. Big Brother Dean to the rescue.





	Turned Tables

 

Dean's eyes were screwed shut, chest heaving, sweat glistening all over as he trembled with abandon. Sam had him standing, arms above his head and rope binding his wrists, connected to the sturdiest part of the motels ceiling fan. It was lucky it didn't work, Sam guessed, because otherwise he never would have thought of this.

His hands roamed over Dean's body, calmly, carefully, one hand using the pinwheel and the other scratching and pinching, clamps squeezing at whatever safe purchase they could find on the undersides of Dean's arms in a vice. He paused his work to admire it, trails of red and pink from his nails, dotted lines in pristine, painful rows of four that snaked across his brother's body. 

Sam wasn't a sadist. He would swear it on God if you asked. But he took a certain pride in this, hurting Dean. Helping Dean. Knowing what he needed and giving it, in ways only he could. He's seen other people try and rebuilt Dean from the wreckage. He'd never be happy his brother and he experienced those particular problems, but he's glad they're over and he's the clear choice. The only choice. Call him possessive. A freak. Hell, call him codependent and obsessed, if you want-

"Sam." Dean broke him out of his thoughts. 

The older Winchester isn't blindfolded, no, never again, but he's cautiously peeking an eye open to look up at Sam, pleading. Of course. He could never deny Dean this. Anything but this. He stepped forward again, easily into Dean’s space and began again with a tug at a clamp on Dean's left arm. He felt pleased as his brother gasped.

"These have been on for a while, De. I think we need to give 'em a rest." He hummed, tone placating as he began to get rid of the clips one by one.

Dean hissed and groaned, his body bucked and writhed as Sam took the off just the way Dean liked, slow enough to feel the fire of circulation returning to each one individually. It looked like Dean was dead on his feet by the time Sam was done, if the ceiling fan could have supported Dean's weight securely he most definitely would've given up. He stepped around to Dean's front, and grabbed him by the chin.

"What's your safeword?" He asked, tone soft but firm.

"Red. Poughkeepsie." Dean replied, chin lifting as he made eye contact with Sam, eyes bright.

"And your safe motions?" Sam follows up, chin dropping as Dean's rose; they were their father's sons, soldiers.

The subtle exchange made Dean even more boneless than before, yet he still managed to snap his fingers somewhat pathetically with his bound hands twice. A second's pause and an expectant stare from Sam yielded the horse clop sound of Dean stomping his foot twice and dragging it back behind him in a clank-clank-clssshhhh on the hardwood.

"Perfect, Dean. Fantastic. Do you need to call yellow?" Sam tried.

Dean shook his head so much, so quickly he looked dizzy. "No. Sam, please." 

Sam circled him once, twice, as he debated. 

"Sammy." Dean honest to god whined as he tracked Sam walking around him frantically.

"Okay. Okay. I got you." Sam dug his nails into the tender flesh of where the clamps were.

Dean shuddered violently and whimpered. Sam didn't stop, using the pinwheel to drag along the expanses of Dean's chest until he was at his brother's other arm. Until he was at another bruising patch of oh so delicate skin and pressing the tiny points carefully. Dean was getting further and further away, he could see it in how he sagged more and more, forcing the fan to hold his weight incrementally.

Sam wasn't too worried, until he heard a small series of creaks. He grabbed Dean by the face again, the pinwheel tossed to the bed as he used the other hand to pat his face. 

"Dean." He said, watching his brother's eyes flutter but not open. 

He gave another swat and jerked his chin around to get him back. "Hey, Dean."

Dean blinks his eyes open, and they take a moment to focus, his pupils blown so wide but the slivers of green that remained are so alive.

"Hey, Jerk. How you feelin?" Sam gave a hint of a smile, voice soft and warm.

Dean grins, drunk as a skunk, looking at Sam like he was his whole world. "'M gre't, Bitch." 

Sam gave an affectionate scoff and eye roll. Of course bitch would be the only word he'd say with startling clarity. Sam wouldn't put it past Dean to have done it on purpose.

"Let's move it to the bed." He said as he got rid of the rope binding Dean to the fan.

He practically drug them both over to the nearest bed, for all the help Dean trying was worth. He moved Dean onto his side and massaged at where the rope bound him, a safety measure. Dean blinked up at him, clearly confused at this turn of events.

"I'm calling yellow, just for this, okay? I know we were careful with the tie but I just want to make sure your circulation is good and there's no pinched nerves."

Dean blinked blearily before he gave into Sam's will. "Mm." He hummed.

Sam took his time, and soon Dean grew impatient, looking up at him, begging silently. Should he, with how.....wrecked Dean looked right now? He himself felt like they could go on forever. He wanted to keep going, his fingers itched to destroy Dean, to put him back together, nails digging into his brother's skin and subtly but surely adding pressure. He loved having a way to help Dean. There was finally something they wouldn't have to fight tooth and nail on that he could benefit from. Something that made him worth it, since that night at Stanford. Since Dad died. 

Dean hissed, in a way that Sam had never heard before. Sam looked up. His face was all scrunched up, and he shook his head a few times.

Sam ceased all motion immediately, and looked down to assess the damage. Dean's arms were red and inflamed in circuits, from Sam's own hands. He soothed at the tracks with a palm as gently as he could manage but Dean only wriggled away. 

"Dean. Dean? What's your color?" Sam asked, sounding braver than he felt.

Dean shook his head, a sluggish two snaps sounded, blanketing the room in the silence after. Sam let it sink in what he'd done, before he sprang into action. If he didn't get to work now Dean would definitely experience a drop something fierce. 

"Good job for telling me, okay? Thank you for that. Let's get you cleaned up, okay? Can you handle that?" Sam asked, half afraid of the answer.

Dean seemed to consider it in a haze before he eventually nodded. Sam's relief was palpable as he began to take care of Dean, gently, slowly with clear instructions of what was coming. Dean responded well, drifting but astute. He didn't have the words for it now, but both brothers knew they'd have to talk about what happened. Sam saw the lucid concern in Dean's eyes as he was coming around. Saw Dean clenching and unclenching his jaw as he tried to force out one of his "How you doing, with all this?" Feeling fest starters.

Sam thought he was doing terrible as he soothed Dean into a safe place to sleep. He thought it was worse when he really let himself understand that he'd unintentionally hurt Dean. Then just plain awful when he had his head resting on the toilet bowl after ten minutes of on and off spontaneous wretching. Monumentally fucked up as he questioned his worth to dean, if he'd just always be little Sammy trailing after Dean's heels. If he'll ever pull his weight. 

What if he's just like those other doms his brother trusted that only hurt him? What had happened to him? He'd even asked Dean if he was okay, and called yellow himself. Why didn't he just end the scene? What possessed him to continue going on even when his gut told him to leave well enough alone? That high of having Dean to himself again. Feeling powerful. Useful. It was too dangerous. Was he dangerous? Of course he was, to people, to monsters, the supernatural. But to Dean?

The thought shook him to his very core as he wretched himself into another cold sweat.

Dean couldn't know he'd experienced this. His own drop. Never. 

He nursed himself through it as Dean slept, seemingly better by the time 5:00 rolled around. He'd even gotten an hour of sleep before the alarm went off. But, didn't wake when the alarm sounded.

Dean turned off the alarm and peered over at him, still out cold. Last night was kind of a blur, after he safeworded, but something was wrong. Sam never slept through alarms, even on the pitiful sleep they got. He shuffled over to Sam, shaking him. 

Sam snapped awake, "Dude." He huffed.

"Time to get cracking, little brother. Can't let you sleep through the day." Dean nudged Sam insistently before he ruffled his hair. 

Sam was uncoordinated with the lack of rest as he tried to fend Dean off. "Jerk."

"Bitch. What time'd you get to sleep, anyway?" Dean pressed, sitting on the bed beside Sam.

"Not too late." Sam stretched.

Dean looked unimpressed. "Try again."

"What?" Sam looked to Dean, defensive.

"You didn't get enough sleep. Your coordination is like one of those blow up dolls that wave around at car dealerships when you get less than two hours." Dean countered, giving Sam that Lazer focused look he often had when he thought he had to take care of Sam.

"Dean...." Sam's tone wavered, unsure of how to finish his statement.

He hates it, that look. How defensive and upset he feels because Dean wants to help him and fix whatever's wrong. That look that brooks no argument, that lives to serve. Sam doesn't finish, because there's nothing to say.

"We can take a break. Get back to dream land, kid." Dean got off the bed.

"I'm not a kid!" Sam fumed, surprising both parties.

"Okay, Sam. What's goin' on?" Dean asked, seemingly unsure of how to best proceed.

Sam didn't answer, his gaze dropped down to his hands. They still felt....dirty from when he had actually hurt Dean. Like he'd drawn blood and it wouldn't wash away. The feeling stuck with him even through repeated washings and a shower during his episode last night, painting him as disgusting as those other people who Dean was wrong to trust. He remembers reading Macbeth, thinking that Lady Macbeth got exactly what she deserved, completely unsympathetic to her plight. But now, with this experience under his belt, he feels a lot more understanding.

"We need to talk about this." Dean said, tone resolute.

Sam stayed quiet for another long while, maybe minutes. He'd given up on giving Dean any reply, but those eyes, staring at him patiently just like when Dean had done when Sam was young, forced him to give a response he hadn't even known he'd thought of. 

"I hurt you. For real." He groused.

Dean was quiet as he let it sink in, realizing Sam couldn't sleep because he was wracked with guilt over a minor mishap that Dean himself begged for. 

"It's okay. I was too far gone. We both were." Dean shrugs. "You stopped when I needed you to and that's what matters most to me."

Sam looked horrified. "It isn't okay. It can't be. If it's okay then it'll happen again and-" He swallowed his next words guiltily. 

Dean waited for him to continue, brows raised and eyes wide in anticipation. "And what, Sam? It'll happen again and you'll turn into Al, abusing me left and right? Leaving me vulnerable because you get off on the power trip? Too caught in your domspac-"

"Yes." Sam asserted over his brother's sarcastic remarks, looking moments away from being ill again.

Dean faltered, floored by Sam's confession. "Sammy, there's no way you'd turn out like him. You don't see me like that. You wouldn't ever."

"I hurt you. I never meant to. I saw how those other doms left you and I just believed it'd never be me." Sam said, tone weary.

Dean pulled him into a hug, tight like a vice. "It's not okay. To put that expectation on yourself isn't fair to anybody. We got through so much of that without you hurting me for real by some...miracle. Our luck always runs out eventually."

Sam sagged into the hug, his own arms wrapping around Dean back. "Too soon."

"Maybe we were over due." Dean rose from the hug to get Sam some water from the tap.

He held the cup out to said little brother insistently. 

Sam took the cup with little fuss. "I...felt like I wasn't enough when you sought out others. But they'd always mess it up, and it'd be us again eventually. It gave me," He couldn't find the right words. "A sense of superiority." He shrugged.

Dean tried to wrap his head around it. Make sense of what Sam meant. "Superiority over them?" 

"Yeah. I was better because I actually cared. Of course I care more than them, I've known you forever and seen what not having this does to you." Sam mumbled, hiding his mouth behind his cup.

Dean waited for Sam to finish his water before he nodded and shoved Sam down onto the bed.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Let's just sleep in, okay?" Dean said as he wrapped himself around Sam to be big spoon. "I read up on top drop, just in case. Just trust me, little brother."

Sam couldn't stop his frown. "Can I be..." He felt embarrassed to finish the sentence, he was too old to cuddle with his brother.

"Big spoon?" Dean asked, Sam could hear the grin in his voice. "Now why'd you wanna do a thing like that, Sam?"

"Because you're always taking care of me and I hate it." Sam sighed.

"Why? Am I bad at it?" Dean asked, playful tone gone.

"No! N-no." Sam tripped over himself to reassure Dean, "I just...never felt like I pulled my weight growing up." Sam muttered and sighed.

"You did plenty." Dean replied, wrapping his arms around Sam and pulling him close to his chest.

"It never felt like it. I didn't know better when I was younger, the sacrifices you made for me." He forced back his emotions, he can't cry and cuddle simultaneously.

Dean frowned. "Dad didn't make me do it. He told me, sure, but I did it because I knew I wanted to. Why wouldn't I?" 

"I don't know." Sam sniffed.

Dean hummed. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry, Dean." 

"For what?"

"For lots of stuff. Being a brat. Going to stanford. Almost not helping you with Dad. Almost getting myself killed when I found Jess. For being jealous of your other doms. This chick flick moment. Just a few notable occasions." Sam groused, tears falling.

He was glad Dean was big spoon now, as much as being little spoon was embarrassing, so was this.

"Shut up. You're not a bad kid, Sam. Sometimes we have to set each other straight, that's what family is for." Dean said firmly.

Sam sniffed, pushed himself back into his brother for comfort. Dean didn't even say a dorky comment to try and ease the mood. He just let Sam feel as he felt, because if the tables were turned that's what he would want too.

"We'll talk later. For now, we'll sleep in and enjoy the extra rest." Dean asserted.

Sam didn't object, the only indicator he heard was a slight sniffle and a sigh.

They lay in silence for a while. Just before Dean dozed off he heard "you always went to them." From Sam.

"Huh?" Dean asked, confused.

"You always went to them. You only came to me second hand." He huffed. 

"Sammy, I'm sorry. I didn't know you liked helping me. I thought you get sick of it and tell to find someone else, so I got ahead of the curve." Dean replied.

"You thought I'd reject you?" Sam was incredulous.

"No. Maybe? I don't know." Dean sputtered at the hurt in Sam's voice.

"Doing that for you was good for me too, Dean." He said said, tone clipped.

"I know that now." Dean responded, tone placating.

"Good. Don't let them abuse you. Not even me." Sam demanded.

"You got it, Sam." Dean hummed.

Sam let out a snore. Dean smiled fondly, just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. I'd wanted to make this one for a long time. Tell me your favorite part and any ideas.


End file.
